Chapter Text
When Vincent Whittman died, he woke up in Hell almost instantly. And the moment he did, he knew something was very wrong. Not the heavy television set on his neck, not the fact that he was dead at all, not the blue shade of his skin.
Something was missing, something he’d come to know very well, that he’d had all his life. The lack of weight between his legs was enough, but he’d immediately plunged his hand into his pants anyway to make sure. That just confirmed it.
Why?
He sucked in a pained gasp through his teeth when his claws scraped the skin in that area.
To say nothing was there wouldn’t be entirely accurate. After he realized how sensitive it was and how sharp his new nails really were, he felt around more carefully. The skin had the tiniest of bumps and was soft, with a cleft in the center. A little…’button’, or something, at the top. He moved his fingers further down. Wet. There was a spot that made him feel like he had to piss when he touched it. Down. A…hole? A warm, wet hole.
He yanked his hand away as if it had been burned. What the fuck? Why?
Years later.
The Overlord Vox amassed influence and power with his charisma and presence. He often heard Sinners complain about how he was always ‘swinging his dick around’.
They didn’t know.
He could never let them know. Nobody, nobody could ever know.
He never even tried to use public bathrooms anymore. That was a mistake he learned from quickly. Refusing to sit down to pee, he stood at the urinal, very close to it, almost touching it. Probably looked stupid. Tried to take aim and let go. That ended with soaked pants and a puddle on the bathroom floor. The bouncer was not going to buy that he wasn't that drunk after that, and he couldn't tell him the real explanation.
The closest he came to letting somebody know, that night in the bar twenty years ago, he was going to show him. He was going to let him touch it. He didn’t even touch it himself, but, he was willing to take a chance.
Laughter. He can still hear the laughter in his head when he thinks about the brutal rejection the moment he suggested a partnership. He cried. It shattered any thought he had of sharing this part of himself. He'd be met with more laughter and shame. No, he couldn't put himself through that.
20 years after that incident, Vox is sitting on a couch in total darkness save for the flashing colorful lights that spin around the room in tune with the music. The bass was too heavy, it was hard to hear anything in there. Even the cheers of other Sinners as they held up their bills for the dancers were drowned out.
Why did he decide to come here? It was a whim. A whim based on a poster he had seen. It advertised exotic dancers (strippers) of all kinds, all shapes and sizes at the club. Both men and women. And ‘others’, whatever that meant. His heart seemed to stop for a moment.
Was he one of those ‘others’?
Fuck that. He was a man. Whatever cruel twist of fate decided to take that essential piece of him away couldn't change the fact that he was a goddamn man.
Could it?
He felt sick. It was a thought he'd been struggling with ever since he landed in Hell. There was always a nagging voice in his head, his own voice, reasoning that he was no longer a male, that he was a woman now and needed to stop pretending. He saw himself as a man, and yet the doubts crept in constantly. The thought of living as a woman made his chest hurt, his stomach turn, but still. He had… what women have. He felt like he was lying to everyone and himself at times.
“You look like you could use a drink.”
His spiral was interrupted by a sultry voice from above. He took his screen out of his hands and looked up. That was when he caught his first glimpse of Valentino.
This tall, beautiful creature stood over him with a martini in one of their four hands. They were adorned in a red…lingerie top (he didn't know the word at the time) with a neckline resembling a harness, a matching cape hanging off behind them. Not a cape. Wings. They looked so tall in their massive platform heels.
“H…huh?”
He was caught off guard by their approach, and they giggled. “Not many come here just to stare at their own feet, Papi.” Their voice was strangely audible among the pounding bass. “Something on your mind?”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Then don't. But let me take it off for you.” Vox's screen must have shown what he was thinking, because the other person smirked and made an addendum. “Off your mind.”
Drinks started going down fast. He wasn't sure how many he had after that. He learned the name of the dancer that would grind on his lap and stick his ass in his face for the next half an hour while the bills in his garterbelt multiplied. Valentino. He learned that Valentino was a man too. Honestly, he couldn't tell until he had a screenful of taint. Valentino asked him about himself, about his life while dancing on him. Of course he already knew about Vox, the media Overlord, but he asked about Vox, the Sinner. Vox, the man. Inhibitions started to go out the window as he told Valentino all about his movement on Earth, his huge dreams and eventual death. The people he tore down to get to the top. It was far too easy to speak to him.
“Aren't you enjoying the dance?”
The question confused Vox as Val's butt dragged along his thigh. “No, I am. Am I not tipping enough or something?”
Val looked over his shoulder, squinting over his glasses. There was plenty of money building up in various areas of his barely-an-outfit. “That's not it. It's just…”
Vox looked back at him in confusion.
“How would you like to take this upstairs?”
Upstairs was… this floor had a strip club. And the floor above it had private bedrooms, for an extra service, because the club also functioned as a brothel. Vox gulped. The question was almost sobering.
“Uh, I don't know if-”
“I'll give you a nice discount. And you'll have the time of your life.”
Any other time, Vox would have said no. He would have left. Kept his secret. But whether it was the alcohol or the music or just Valentino, something led him to make the most stupid decision he could have.
“Fuck it, let's go.”
That stupid decision would go down as the best he ever made in Hell.